Easter Egg Hunts, Claps of Thunder and Natural Depravity

C and the trips last Easter

Please don’t faint, but I’ve actually got a post for you today which I wrote for this site. No clicking over to somewhere else. Original content, I believe it’s called. I know. Shhh. Ocking. I’d like to get back into the habit of writing here more often. Maybe this is a start. I kinda like this one, but I wrote it in a stream-of-consciousness blur, so it’s a bit random. Still, a worthy effort, I believe, on this Good Friday. Here it be:

Ironic, I thought, as we drove to the Easter Egg Hunt. The rain, I meant. Only it wasn’t ironic, well, except for maybe in an Alanis Morissette kind of way, like ray- eee -ain, on your wedding day, which, incidentally, isn’t ironic at all. Bad luck to be certain. But ironic, it is not. I confuse irony more than I’d like to admit, and I blame yesteryear’s bitter songstress for said confusion, too lovesick, I suppose, to fully understand the term, that angry woman was. Still, she, she, she oughtta know.

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